P.S. The first staff retreat, part 1

Well, I'll admit that although I've been open and honest with chronicle stories, there are a few that I've held back on, but since I'm on the downhill slide of this career, I'll try not to worry about this share bringing me  one step closer to having a pink slip in my mail cubby. I could claim pandemic insanity at work, but those who know me may say, "Really?  Really, church chick? You want to claim pandemicville for your no-sanity? Nope. We know better."

Although I loved the chaotic years of raising my four girls, and although I work in a ginormous church with thousands of members, many who pass through my office daily- I am an introvert by nature. I manage well at work seeing people a couple at a time, but put me in a room full of them, and I can shrink faster than saran wrap in the microwave. So, when I attended my first overnight staff retreat, 16 years ago,my anxiety grew by ten thousand. Logical self-talk did no good. "You like the people you work with.""Just not all together in confined spaces for any length of time."
"It's simply a few hours there and back.""You mean 5 days there and 5 days back."
"It will all be over before you know it.""Yes, self, yes. That's exactly what I am afraid of."

I needed a survival plan; I sought out help. A church chick friend told me to call her if panic took over, I had meds that read "Use in case of panic", and my therapist said, "Can't wait to hear about it. We'll have lots to talk about when you come back!" I found no comfort in any of those words, however. The day drew closer.  I felt as ready as I could possibly be, which wasn't saying much. My plan was to take a panic pill and hold tightly to my phone the whole way there and back. Yes, that would work.

12 of us ( or was it 50?) boarded the biggest church vehicle, and rode the 2+ hours through winding roads, hills, and valleys, finally ending up at the end of the earth. The "retreat" house overlooked a lake,and it sat on a culdesac in the depths of the deepest forests of nowhere. Lovely. Why was I the only one who noticed we were all at huge and dire risk of, well I guess of things known only to a panic-minded church chick?

We settled into the living room, some in chairs, or on the sofa, and I found a great location on the floor, mere seconds from every exit. I clung to a giant easel pad and a handful of markers. My security team (paper pal and markers) parked on the carpet with me and the staff conversations began. I took notes, wrote on the pad, and occasionally took a breath. Somewhere in there, any hint of focus and concentration that had arrived with me, skipped out of town. I heard a woodpecker that sounded like he was in the room with us, but no one else seemed to notice. A few minutes later, it turned into a drumline, right in the room with us all, why didn't anyone else hear it? feel it?  or was that my heart pounding?Then it started to rain, inside! Right onto the pad I was taking notes on! OH NO! Wait.maybe that was sweat dripping from ....me, the note taker.

My writing blurred, but people kept talking. Somewhere, a clear voice amongst the mixed conversation said, "Churchick- Save yourself! Get up and Get OUT of here NOW!" I looked around the room but no one saw the gremlin on the wing of the plane, thank you Rod Serling. With huge huge efforts to appear smooth and savvy, I got up and said, "I'm just going to stretch my legs. Be right back." My boss nodded and their conversation didn't miss a beat. I trembled out the door without tripping over my Gumby legs or were they Mr. Bill's? (Oh Noooooo!) Once outside, I dialed my church chick support friend but the call refused to go through. No amount of bad words or harsh threats could push that call through. Dag. No signal. We can reach out into space to call space aliens, but I could not, for the life of me, make a darn call for help. Sheesh. My adrenaline had eaten up any hint of medicated calm, oh boy. Ohhhhh

I roamed  around the culdesac talking to myself, who refused to listen. I realized that if I did not do something drastic to cut the cycle of panic, I was going to be in real trouble. No one could hear me scream, no one could get my call, oh boy I was  deep in IT.